


Stripes or Solids

by Eikaron



Category: RWBY
Genre: Bisexual Qrow Branwen, Clover is a tease, Episode: v07e06 A Night Off, Flirting, Friendly bonding, Gay Clover, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Qrow needs a hug, Qrow's got it bad, look this is practically canon, mild references to alcoholism, nice conversations, playing pool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21852340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eikaron/pseuds/Eikaron
Summary: Set during S07E06.Everyone's got the night off so naturally Clover invites Qrow out for a game of pool. That's it, no smut yet I'm afraid.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 172





	1. Chapter 1

Qrow resisted the urge to let out a long, drawn-out sigh and slumped on the bench, pushing the empty food tray away from him. Now what?

This was officially his night off – _everyone's_ night off – and Qrow didn't know what to do with himself. Not anymore. Before, his first impulse would have been to go out to hit the local bars and get drunk as fast as possible. Get laid, maybe, if he was lucky and didn't get too smashed. But he didn't do that anymore.

Well, at least the 'getting drunk' part, Qrow mentally corrected himself. Getting laid was still on the table. Although he wasn't at all sure how one went about doing that without the help of alcohol either, if he was being perfectly honest with himself.

He sipped from his fruit tea – disgusting – and continued to stare vacantly at the wall as the white noise of other people's conversations buzzed around him. He could just go to bed early, try to get a good night's sleep for once. Yeah right, like that would work. Reading maybe? Qrow couldn't even remember the last time he'd actually read something for leisure.

“There you are!”, said a familiar voice suddenly, startling the huntsman out of his mental slump, and then the not-entirely-unwelcome sight of Clover Ebi slid into the opposite bench and flashed Qrow one of his infectious smiles. “I've been looking all-over for you.”

“Hey”, said Qrow, giving a tentative smile in return. “Why's that?”

He hadn't done anything, had he? Qrow wracked his brain on whether or not he had offended James somehow and Clover was here to tell him the general needed to speak to him, but came up empty.

“I was wondering what you're doing tonight”, said Clover. “Since it's our night off.”

Ah. More team-building then. Or making sure he stayed dry. Probably both.

“I, uh, haven't really thought about it yet”, lied Qrow, hiding behind another sip of awful tea. “Why? What about you?”, he asked.

Perhaps he wanted to invite Qrow to hang out with him and the other Ace-Ops, he thought. Clover had made some obvious efforts to get to know him in the past few weeks, so this was most likely more of the same. Qrow wasn't naive: It was fairly obvious to him that James must have put his officer up to this, especially considering the man's semblance. Nevertheless he harboured the selfish hope that Clover might have come to enjoy his presence regardless of orders.

“I was thinking of going out for a game of pool”, said Clover, playing absently with the four-leaf clover pin on his uniform, “but I don't feel like going alone. I was wondering if you'd like to come?”

He sent Qrow a coy look from under his lashes. Jeez, the man really was an insufferable tease, wasn't he? Too bad it was working so well on Qrow.

“What about the other Ace-Ops?”, he asked casually. “None of them want to go?”

“No, we don't really hang out outside of a... professional capacity”, said Clover vaguely and then shrugged. “So?”

Qrow considered it, drinking some more tea to buy himself time. If he was honest with himself, he really wanted to go. The prospect of retiring to his room, alone with his thoughts, versus spending the night playing pool with Clover? Well, it was not really a competition, was it?

Except... Qrow closed his eyes and sighed.

“I'd love to”, he told Clover earnestly. “But I.... I really shouldn't. Bars... aren't really a place I ought to be at at the moment.”

Qrow didn't say why. He looked down at the table, not wanting to meet Clover's eyes, causing him to almost miss the compassionate look of understanding crossing the other man's face. To his surprise, Clover propped his chin in his hand and smiled at him.

“If that's all that's keeping you”, he said, “I know a good dry bar.” When Qrow didn't immediately react, Clover raised his eyebrows and went on in a cajoling tone: “It has pool, darts, even some board games. Sixty-five different kinds of mocktails. Admittedly, I don't know if they're any good, but honestly, they can't possibly be worse than _this.”_

He gave the mug in Qrow's hand a pointed look. Qrow laughed at this and put the tea down.

“You had me at dry bar”, he said. “Alright. I'm in.”

“Great. I'll pick you up in an hour”, said Clover and Qrow's heart skipped a beat at the flirtatious blink-and-you-miss-it eyebrow wriggle he gave him.


	2. Chapter 2

“Guess I still don't stand a chance against your luck, huh?”, said Qrow, deflating as Clover successfully pocketed another ball, putting Qrow even farther behind in their game.

“That was skill, not luck”, said Clover.

His tone was neutral, but Qrow didn't miss the almost imperceptible way Clover's lips tightened or how his facial expression grew just a little more blank.

“What? Did I say something wrong?”, he asked.

“No, not at all”, replied Clover, trying to cover his surprise at Qrow having noticed his disdain with a nervous laugh. “What makes you think that?”

“Come on, cut the bull”, said Qrow. “I just offended you somehow.”

Clover sighed and reached for the chalk.

“Look, Qrow”, he said, focusing his gaze on the tip of the cue as he diligently applied the red powder, “I'm not going to insult you by claiming my life was as hard as yours. It wasn't. I'm well aware of that. I know I had it comparably easy; even before my semblance unlocked. But the thing is: When you're as 'lucky' as I am...”, he rubbed the small cube over the tip one last time before he blew on it and put the chalk down again, “Then sooner or later people will find a way to somehow make everything that happens in your life about your luck, whether it is actually true or not. In other words: No accomplishment is ever truly your own anymore.”

“Oh”, said Qrow softly, the understanding sudden and violent. “I... I'm sorry, Clover. I get it.”

“Do you now?”, asked Clover, even though they both knew it was a rhetoric question. Qrow snorted.

“I of all people should understand what it feels like to be reduced to your semblance”, he said, gesturing for Clover to keep playing. “Really, I'm sorry. Should have known better.”

The other man nodded and walked around the pool table to where the white ball had landed.

“Don't be too hard on yourself”, he told Qrow, the gentle smile back on his face as if it had never left, “You're hardly the first one and you won't be the last. And I know it must be especially hard for you to... _deal_ with my semblance, considering your own.”

Qrow made a noncommittal sound and awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. Sometimes Clover Ebi was too understanding for his own good. He watched silently as the Ace-Op leaned over the table. It was odd to see him in civilian clothing to say the least, but Qrow would be lying if he claimed he didn't like it: The grey pants were hugging Clover's figure exceptionally nicely.

The white ball rolled. Two solids went in.

“Good shot”, said Qrow, earning an even wider smile from Clover.

The next one missed, stranding the white ball smack dab in the middle of the table. Qrow circled it, trying to decide which of the stripes to play. They were all placed equally unfortunately.

“Is that why you joined the Ace-Ops”, he asked, finally settling on the orange one, “to show that you're more than just a pretty face?”

He took aim, concentrating on his shot. Clover leaned against the table, placing himself distractingly in Qrow's line of vision.

“So you think I have a pretty face, huh?”, he said cockily, just as Qrow pulled back the cue.

Qrow botched his shot, the cue tip wavering and scraping the underside of the ball instead of hitting it centrally. It wobbled and rolled off to the side at a snail's pace; stopping just before touching one of Clover's balls. Qrow felt the heat creep up his neck.

“Shut up”, he said, blushing, and glared at Clover, but there was no real rancour behind it; not when the other man was smirking at him like that.

“To answer your question”, continued Clover, as if he hadn't just shamelessly flirted with Qrow, “Yes and no. It wasn't the sole reason I joined the military, but I would be lying if I said it didn't play a role. What about you?”

“What about me?”, asked Qrow bewilderedly.

“Why did you become a Huntsman?”

“Oh”, said Qrow. “Er...” He let out a gruff laugh. “By accident, if I'm completely honest.”

Qrow couldn't stop himself from grinning momentarily at the other man's genuinely puzzled expression. Then he sighed, both because Clover asked “How does one become a Huntsman by accident?” and because he had just pocketed another solid.

“How much did Jimmy tell you about me?”, he asked back.

“The general has made it clear that he trusted you. That you had some...”, Clover paused, searching for the right word, “ _issues_ with authority-”

Qrow snorted, amused. That was putting it lightly. Typical for James.

“-but were a good Huntsman”, Clover continued, his smile unfazed. “One of the best. Though he did mention you had somewhat of an... unusual past. 'A rough start in life', if I recall. He didn't give me any more details than that of course; although I do know that you were one of the top graduates at Beacon in your time. Which is why I am a tad confused right now.”

He tilted his head and looked questioningly at Qrow before bending down to take his next shot, obviously hoping the other man would care to shed some light on these mysteries.

“I'm flattered Jimmy thinks so highly of me”, said Qrow, “but as usual he's left out some of the more important bits.” He brightened up when Clover pocketed both a solid and one of Qrow's stripes, therefore ending his turn. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome”, said Clover and winked at him. “So? What did the general leave out?”

Qrow regarded Clover carefully. He was always a bit wary about telling people the whole sob story of his life; it had backfired on him one too many times. There was no hint of judgment in Clover's face yet, only open, earnest curiosity – but how long would it stay that way after he learned the truth?

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to”, said Clover, noticing Qrow's apprehension. “I understand. Sometimes the past can be a painful subject.”

“Yeah”, said Qrow, feeling oddly guilty about his evasiveness. “Yeah it can be. It is.”

He realised that he _wanted_ to tell Clover. Wanted to be open. That, maybe, he was sick of hiding. Qrow took a deep breath.

“I was raised by a bandit tribe in Mistral.”

The way Clover's eyebrows nearly vanished under his hairline made it entirely worth it.

“A bandit tribe? _Really_?”, Clover blurted out, for once unable to keep his cool.

“Really”, said Qrow. “Believe me, you wouldn't wanna make this up.”

“So how did you end up wanting to be a Huntsman?”, asked Clover, leaning on his cue and watching him with unabashed curiosity now. “And attending Beacon. You must have broken with everything you knew.”

He frowned at Qrow, his fingers unconsciously playing with the rabbit foot tied to his belt.

“Well, not quite...”, Qrow told him with a bitter chuckle. “You see, I didn't attend Beacon with the goal of becoming a Huntsman. My sister and I were sent there for a different reason.”

The red stripe shot across the table straight as an arrow and landed in the corner pocket Qrow had aimed for with a clang. He drew back and looked Clover straight in the eye.

“We were sent there to learn how to kill them”, he said softly.

Clover's eyebrows shot up.

“I... did _not_ expect that”, he said, his eyes so comically widened that Qrow couldn't help but laugh.

“I don't exactly go around telling that to everyone”, he said with a crooked smile. “But don't worry: These days are behind me as well.”

Clover was just about to reply, when all of a sudden an alarm siren blared. Red lights flashed over the entrance. Their scrolls vibrated madly in their back pockets, signalling a Red Alert. They exchanged a glance.

“ 'Fraid the rest will have to wait”, said Qrow, already reaching for Harbinger leaning against the wall and heading for the door.

“And isn't that the story of our lives”, said Clover, following him and activating his com as he spoke. “Ace One here, what's going on?”


End file.
